Gently tensing my bum cheeks and calves whilst still under the covers was both intriguing and painful, running the last part of the Tongariro hike yesterday has turned out to be a terrible idea. I think I will be spending the rest of the day on crutches.

Massaging my legs back to normality we headed to our river rafting headquarters - it was 08:45 and I was jubilant.

When we arrived they were refurbishing the building so tents and gazebos had been set up outside which sounds horrendous but it's eclectic presence was exciting. Every single staff member there seem to be under the influence of marijuana. There were the usual hyper ones that were howling greetings when they saw us and then a few spaced out, dim ones that spoke in that ultra-mellow voice. One guy said to me, 'Dude, do you want one of those floaty thingys?' I gulped and assured him that I did want one.

Suited and booted (with our instructors rapidly coming back to the land of the living) we made our way to the river, all sporting some saucy sleeveless wetsuit numbers I might add. Wishing that I'd stuffed a pair of rugby socks into my crotch I ashen-faced clambered onto my craft. Our raft consisted of Anthea and Victor, a Welsh and Scottish couple that were great fun and Vinnie, a small Indian fellow that couldn't swim - there's always a drowning Indian on these things.

The trip was an hour long and huge amounts of fun. Our Canadian instructor, who insisted on being called 'G Ball', was superb and kept us laughing the whole time. We went down the highest rafted Waterfall in NZ (9 meters) and no one fell out once! Although, when we swam down a smaller rapid poor Vinnie had to be rescued by a canoe - for a bloke that couldn't swim he gave it one hell of a bash!

The whole experience was wet and undoubtedly wild. I would have loved to do it again with similar company and would recommend it to anyone!

After rafting and a quick stock up on supplies we made our way to Rotorua's Geothermal Wonderland. Let me tell you, whoever came up with that name was using some serious poetic license.

Aching and tired I dragged my feet along the whole walk so my opinion may be biased from here on in, but god it was s***e. The place essentially consisted of peering down different craters (holes) and straining to see thick, black tar stuff bubble at the bottom of it. There was also a spot called 'Champagne Pool' (more poetic license) which was a huge steaming pool that was letting off huge plumes of hot steam that burnt your eyeballs and made your throat sore. Admittedly, it did have one minor point of interest in that the rim of it was bright orange.

To cap the whole place off there was an absolute miasma of rotten eggs from the sulphur. By the end of the walk I was genuinely wretching and felt sick as a dog with a trachea that must have resembled a pepperami! Chelsea insisted that she enjoyed it, she can't have. She's lying. At one point I noticed a rat catching trap just off the track and spent a solid three minutes trying to climb in there and end my suffering.

Eventually, we got to Waitomo (ready to see the glow worm caves tomorrow) and parked up on a small farm which looked amazing with all its rustic tools and machines dotted about the place. I also managed to electrocute myself whilst attempting to give a cow the best head scratching of its life. I jumped out of my skin and had a forearm full of pins and needles for about ten minutes. The farmer assured me that the voltage was set extremely high and that to have survived it I had to be the most masculine man alive.